Dark Shines
by SmokeThatSugar
Summary: Time is like a river, and the slightest ripples cannot interrupt what will ultimately come to pass. Even if the means of achieving that end are different.
1. Unfinished Business

It wasn't supposed to end like this, Lucien thought, as he stared down at the corpse of his most recent recruit.

He hadn't been that old, though, Lucien thought, with elves it was hard to tell. The Bosmer, who he had been sent to recruit, was tall and slim, in accordance to most of his kind. His features hadn't been particularly remarkable, shoulder length brown hair and hazel eyes. A ex member of the Mages Guild, expelled for the deaths of two of his fellow mages, one accidental and the second intentional.

Lucien had seen this recruit as the key to sorting out this entire mess in the Brotherhood. A new recruit couldn't be the traitor, and with proper training, could be used to flush out the true betrayer in their midst.

The clearing of a throat brought him back to his surroundings.

Telaendril was still standing before him, waiting for a dismissal. She had been the one to deliver the body to Lucien, as she had been tracking the younger Bosmer. Many new members had an older member shadow them, without their knowing, to monitor their progress, and on occasions like this, remove bodies from the scene before guards could show up.

A wave of his hand dismissed the Wood Elf, who cast one last glance at her fallen comrade. As she left, Lucien heard the soft sounds of conversation in the hallway. Ocheeva, it seemed, was informing their resident vampire of their recent recruit's death. Lucien couldn't hear his response, but he guessed Vicente was offering the matron of Cheydinhal some form of condolences. Ocheeva became very attached to every recruit that came through their doors, treating them more like children than the bloodthirsty assassins most of them were.

The steady click of heels on the stone floor was his only indication that Vicente had entered the room, an act of courtesy from a man who could move as silently as the shadows. In an assassin's guild, you learn early on to give warning of your approach so as not to end up with a dagger in your throat. As he moved up next to the dead Bosmer, the vampire's hand went to tilt the head to better examine the corpse. After a moment's silence, he finally spoke.

"Did he kill his mark?" A nod from Lucien was all the response he got as the Speaker moved to the other side of the body, in preparation for the autopsy they were about to conduct. Vicente furrowed his brows at the response. "Is there any reason we should be suspecting something amiss then?"

Lucien removed his outer black robe, leaving him in a plain black shirt, sleeves already rolled up in preparation for their work. "No, but the Hand wants every dead assassin examined, just in case," he said, watching as the vampire poked and prodded at the corpse with a frown. "What is it?"

Slim fingers tapped on the chest of the late Bosmer. "Whatever killed him, has caused severe swelling. We won't be able to remove the armor short of cutting it off," said the vampire. His lips twisted into a wry smile. "My guess is our friend here was careless in his exit, and met the wrong end of a Nord's war hammer."

As Lucien cut open the leather, Vicente's guess looked to be right. The chest was a colorful montage of blues, blacks, and purples. Distortion showed several broken ribs, and, when they flipped the corpse, a shattered spine. Vicente raised an eyebrow at the Speaker. "Are we done then? I believe the cause of death is rather self-explanatory."

"No," Lucien shook his head. "We still need to search his belongings. There could be something there. I doubt it," he sneered, "but the Listener has insisted." He moved over to the pack of belongings, property of his late Slayer. Looking through it provided some cursory items, healing potions, an iron dagger, a few repair hammers and a journal. However, at the bottom of the bag was a pouch, none too large, but rather heavy. Unlacing the leather straps that held it shut, Lucien reached in and pulled out what had to be the largest ruby he had every seen.

"By Sithis Vicente, look at it! I've never seen such a large gem. Do you have any idea how he could have gotten such a thing?" The vampire's eyes were fixed on the gem before he moved to take the heavy chain from Lucien, examining it more closely before turning to the Speaker, and fixing the chain around his neck. Lucien didn't even have a chance to voice an inquiry before the chain simply slipped off his neck, into the waiting palm of the vampire. Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Vicente looked him straight in the eye.

"This is the Amulet of Kings. This is the very symbol of the Emperor's rule," a half smile twisted across the vampires lips, "or should we say, _former_ rule." Vicente slipped the necklace back into the sturdy pouch it was removed from, and turned to the worn journal laying upon the desk. "Perhaps there is a little more insight to be found here," he muttered idly, flipping through the first few pages which contained little of interested, written during the limited amount of time the Bosmer had spent in the Imperial prison.

Lucien moved to read the journal over the vampire's shoulder. They scanned the pages, before Lucien pointed out a passage. "There, look. The ink all of a sudden changes." He moved to get a better look as they both read.

_27th__ of Last Seed, 3E433_

_There is little to mark the day of my newly acquired freedom yet, but I imagine the news will travel soon of the death of the Emperor. It is strange to think, only a few hours ago, that I was a prisoner. Yet here I am, not only free, but possessing one of the most important items in the Empire, and with no other instructions but to find a man in Weynon Priory by the name of Jauffre…_

_[The entry continues, but contains little else concerning the Amulet]_

Lucien sneered down at the entry. "Last Seed, Vicente! It is almost half way through Sun's Dusk now! When was he planning on finishing this little errand of his?" He picked up the pouch, weighing it in his hand as he mused. "He couldn't have hoped to sell something like this. Not even the best fences could work with something this hot." Lucien turned to the vampire, who flipped through the remaining pages.

"There's no further mention of the Amulet here. It's almost as if he had wished to forget it completely. He returns to the Mages Guild for a while, before the accident which lands him with us. And that's the end of it." Vicente tosses the journal onto the table. Lucien is still holding the pouch in his hands, tossing it from palm to palm. Finally he speaks.

"So what is to be done with it then?" he asks the vampire, though he is not truly expecting a response. To his surprise though, Vicente's lips curl into a smile.

"You're going to bring it to the Night Mother, of course." He smirked at the blank look Lucien directed at him.

"What would she want with such a trinket? I doubt she'll be interested in some relic of Imperial history," he said, tossing the pouch with greater agitation. Vicente nodded, plucking the pouch out of the air.

"No, the Amulet will be of no interest to her, that is true. But you said you wanted to know what is to be done with it, correct?" Lucien nodded. "Then take it to her and ask. Though, if it is what I believe it to be, then I can predict what the Night Mother will want to be done." He began to move briskly through the room, signaling to the Dark Guardian waiting outside the room to take the corpse. When he saw that Lucien had yet to move, he frowned, lips pulling back slightly to reveal fangs.

"Well, we haven't got all year. Your former Slayer has wasted enough time as it is. So get moving!"

Lucien spared the vampire one last dark sneer before donning his black robes and leaving his teacher standing there with a dead man's journal in his hand.

* * *

A/N: Because we all know the Dark Brotherhood was pissed off when those Mythic Dawn posers showed up and started taking over their turf, and getting in on their death and terror business.


	2. Honor Thy Mother

Lucien hated Bravil.

The city, if it could be called that, was a swampy cesspool. The endless buzzing of insects, sound of running water, and the sticky, humid night air all contributed to his current bad mood.

Not to mention the less than pleasant company of the Bosmer before him.

Their animosity for each other was not a secret among the Dark Brotherhood, but they were professionals, and personal squabbles would not be allowed to interfere with the running of the guild.

Ungolim stood before him, clothed not in the black robes usually favored by members of the Black Hand, but instead a green doublet and tan pants tucked neatly into leather boots. Slung on his back was an elven bow of typical Bosmeri design.

The mer's eyes were fixed on the radiant red gem before him. The Amulet of Kings was indeed a miraculous sight. A ruby inclusion, colored a most brilliant red, was set beautifully into the gracefully wrought gold.

"So you say," began Ungolim, shifting the heavy chain in his hands before returning it to the pouch, "that your recently deceased Slayer was in possession of this?" Lucien nodded.

"According to his journal, he's had it for at least three months, lining up with the death of the Emperor. Though, it also indicates that he was directed to take it to Weynon Priory, on the final orders of the Emperor himself." Ungolim's brows knitted themselves into a frown as he stared at the leather pouch, before he spoke.

"There have been reports recently, you know. Word of daedra appearing in the countryside. Curiously enough, the sightings began about three months ago, with the death of the Emperor. I do not know much about the daedra, though Arquen or Vicente would probably be able to tell you something. However, I do suspect that this amulet has something to do with these recent sightings." He stood with a sigh.

"I will bring this before the Night Mother, that she may grace us with her wisdom."

The two figures moved easily through the dead of night, from the small enclosed courtyard where they had been discussing the Amulet, to the statue fondly referred to as the 'Lucky Old Lady'. Lucien snickered.

"Lucky indeed. If only they knew…"

Ungolim moved to stand before the statue. Lucien would be the first to admit, it was a bit unnerving to watch the Listener communicate with the Night Mother. No words were exchanged, though occasionally Ungolim's face would show reactions to what she said. Finally, Ungolim executed a short bow, before turning to Lucien.

"The Night Mother has spoken. The Amulet is to be taken to Weynon Priory. And you are to do it." Before Lucien could begin to protest, Ungolim continued.

"Whatever this gem is, it is important, and the Night Mother will see no failure in this task. The Night Mother has made her desire clear. She also shared my concern about the daedra, and has decided that Executioner Valtieri is to accompany you as well." Ungolim returned the leather pouch to Lucien, who slipped in into his robes.

"Very well, Listener, I shall do as the Night Mother wishes," Lucien executed a curt bow. "May you always walk in the Shadow of Sithis." With no further words, Lucien melted into the blackness surrounding them, leaving Ungolim standing at the base of the statue.

* * *

Vicente Valtieri was not in a good mood.

He was in the sewers, on the way to completing the contract that should have gone to their most recently deceased member. The vampire was not one to begrudge field work, having during his long career in the Brotherhood, served at every position. But he still couldn't help feeling a little bitter.

_Filthy, disgusting, wet and miserable._

After about an hour of cutting through mud crabs and rats, Vicente wasn't sure he would be able to resist gutting the first Imperial guard he saw. Finally, he made it to the exit of the sewers, and the beginning of the formerly secret underground passage. Feeling at the dwemer claymore to make sure it was securely fixed at his back, he kept his eye on the guards talking idly to his right. The glimmer of their life force shined hazily through the wall, but even if that hadn't warned him, their loud chatter would have.

_By Sithis, would they just shut up and move._

Vicente had to resist grinding his fangs as their inane conversation continued for five more minutes, before they moved to continue their rounds. Slipping past them quietly, he deftly continued through the dark, seeing clearly despite the lack of light. Making his way past two more guards, he found himself at a short staircase leading up to the prison complex itself.

The wall opened to reveal the inside of a typical holding cell. Shackles hung from the ceiling and bones littered the floor, a testament to the quality of care prisoners received. The bars were unlocked, and the cell was conveniently set across from the mark. There was a guard standing in the narrow hallway of the prison, and he could hear the wretched Dunmer spit curses at the brute of a guard. When he heard the guard move to leave, he slipped from the shadows into the hallway, and set to work on the lock.

"Hey, you there, Breton _n'wah_ let me out. Do you hear me, you man-mer imbecile, let me out of the cage, you filthy _s'wit-"_

Whatever patience Vicente had left him. He had spent the better part of an hour and a half crawling around in the sewers. He was hungry and cranky. And he was not going to spend a second longer listening to some half-starved convict insult him. Red eyes looked up, and matched the Dunmer's.

_Bad move._

Being a vampire afforded him a bag of tricks, and this convenient charm spell was one of them. Dazed, the Dunmer could do nothing as Vicente finished picking the lock, and the bars swung open to admit him. Drawing his claymore, he could feel the Dunmer clawing ineffectively against the spell, before he slid the blade through him. Vicente allowed himself to enjoy the metallic tang of blood for a moment, before sliding the blade out. The corpse slid unceremoniously to the floor, and Vicente cleaned the blade off on the filthy shirt. Sliding the blade back into its sheath, he made his way up the stairs. Through the door, he saw the shine of two figures. Feeling playful, the vampire dragged up the corpse of the Dunmer with him, before opening the door.

"What the hell-"

Vicente threw the corpse to the center of the room, before letting a smile curl on his lips.

"The Dark Brotherhood sends its regards."

And before either guard could draw a weapon, he vanished.

* * *

Lucien was sure the vampire was hiding somewhere. He had come back to the sanctuary, in a foul-temper, and ready to unload his misery on the vampire, as well as inform him with anticipated glee, that he would have to come with Lucien on his merry little trek across Cyrodiil. If he knew anything about the vampire, it was how much he disliked spending long periods of time out of the Sanctuary.

_Something about being caught out in the sunlight, and burning up probably._

He made his way to Ocheeva's room. Knocking politely, he waited for the Argonian. Ocheeva opened the door, surprise written on her face to see her Speaker there.

"We had not been expecting you back so soon, honorable Speaker. What brings you to the Sanctuary." Ocheeva moved to allow Lucien into her room, and sat down at the table. Once he was seated, she offered him a measure of Cyrodiilic brandy, noting that he accepted the strong cordial.

Ocheeva could always roughly measure her Speaker's mood, depending on whether he took the offered glass of brandy. Generally he refused, but whenever in a sour mood, he would accept the strong liquor. In which case, she poured some for herself as well.

"A unique case has come up for me, in which I will be gone for an indeterminate amount of time," Lucien began, twirling the glass idly in his fingers, "and furthermore, Vicente is going to be accompanying me. Ungolim is aware of the situation already, and has redirected contracts accordingly, since we recently lost another member as well."

Ocheeva nodded, knowing better than to ask what this particular absence was for. However…

"Vicente is not here, as you have probably noticed. He took up the contract that was intended for our late member," she pushed a copy of the _Black Horse Courier_ to Lucien, who read the bold title.

**Imperial Prison Infiltrated! Prisoner Left Dead!**

Ocheeva continued. "Given that he can only travel at night, and that this came out today, I imagine he'll be returning soon, tonight or tomorrow." Lucien nodded, and stood up.

"Thank you Ocheeva, I shall wait until Vicente returns," he said, and left the room, closing the door behind him, before retiring to his own rarely used quarters.

* * *

As Vicente returned down the well ladder, he gave a nod at Teinaava, who was leaving on his own contract. Moving down the hall, he noticed a candle burning and the doors to Lucien's quarters open, indicating that their Speaker was present. The vampire invited himself in, to see Lucien packing a set of saddlebags.

"Welcome back Vicente." Lucien stood up, and turned to the vampire. "As you can see, I've also just returned, from Bravil. I brought the Amulet before the Night Mother, and she has instructed me to take it to Weynon Priory." The vampire smiled.

"I had expected as much. However," the vampire nodded toward the two bags, "do you really need so much for such a short journey? Surely one bag would suffice."

Lucien could not help but let a smirk form on his face.

"That is because, my dear vampire, you will be coming with me."

* * *

A/N: You have to admit, Bravil does seem like a pretty miserable place.


End file.
